Rueful
by timeywimeyspaceywacey
Summary: In Snow Veil Sanctum, Mercer briefly reflects on the events that brought him there.


**Just a short little one-shot surrounding Mercer Frey. Even though he's a mega-jerk he's one of my favorite characters, I feel like he's a really complicated guy, and there's a lot more to his story than we learn. I got the feeling that Mercer wasn't a one-dimensional bad guy. Here's my very brief, one-shot take on Mercer, I hope you enjoy.**

* * *

Mercer Frey remembered when he first pledged the oath to Nocturnal, to serve her not only in this life, but the next. He had given his fealty unwaveringly, proudly donning the armor of the Nightingale as he joined Gallus and Karliah as they swore their oaths, no worries, and no hesitations.

No second thoughts as he threw away his future, his afterlife, to Nocturnal's great indifference, and his later despair.

* * *

As a Nightingale, he had uninhibited access to the innermost chamber of the Twilight Sepulcher where the key was located. He had slipped in, initially only wishing to voice his frustrations, his regrets, to Nocturnal. He had been so confident that she would listen to him, a faithful Nightingale! But as he spoke, he realized that wasn't meant to be. He offered his words, pleaded with her to release him from service, but was only met with the dull drip of water, the eerie light floating around him.

Nocturnal was there. She wasn't listening. She didn't care about him. He was just a stupid pawn, subject to her fickle whims and devices; a tool to be used for the rest of eternity.

He had been conned.

He had screamed at her, bitterly bellowing every possible insult and curse that he could think of, until his throat was raw and he collapsed at the foot of the Ebonmere from sheer exhaustion. Mercer had lain on the ground, chest heaving, left with nothing else to say, when he looked up and saw it.

The Skeleton Key, sitting there, unguarded in the Ebonmere. He had given two quick, furtive glances over his shoulders before snatching the key. His afterlife was gone, pledged away on a whim. But with the key, perhaps he could reclaim his life now.

* * *

Initially, he had only used the key when a mark's lock had proved to be a little too challenging, telling himself that it was only to be used for the direst of situations, no exceptions. However, as time had gone on and he had learned just how powerful the key was, the feel of it in his pocket weighed down on him, and he had found his fingers slipping to grab it whenever a lock needed picking. He had gotten bolder, breaking into places he wouldn't have before, stealing from those he wouldn't have dared to previously.

Like the Thieves Guild.

* * *

Where the end began. This was it.

Snow Veil Sanctum, the ruin where the dark down spiral into violent self-destruction and greed _really_ began with his murder of Gallus. After that, there was no turning back. As the years had gone by, he had only gotten to be more paranoid, more selfish, and more vicious when it came to covering the evidence of his betrayal.

Gallus! Why couldn't he have just left him alone? He had his own wealth. He had Karliah. He had the the Guild. Everything would have been fine if he hadn't kept digging, asking questions. If only Gallus had left him to his own devices.

An echoing thud jerked Mercer out of his thoughtful stupor, causing him to abandon his past reflections. Mercer scanned the empty chamber for Karliah, but once he was satisfied that she was truly gone, he turned to the woman lying paralyzed on the cold stone before him. She had undoubtedly seen and heard everything, and should she live, she would undoubtedly return to the Guild to tell everything. She was the reason they were here, the reason all of this had come to light.

She had kept digging and digging, just like Gallus.

The woman had an unwavering loyalty to her fellow thieves, and Brynjolf's little protégé had proven to be an excellent thief and one hell of a woman. Another time, another place, maybe he would have expressed his interest, donning the neglected Amulet of Mara from his dusty wardrobe in front of her. For so long he had clung to the potential of romance and love in his future, but it had become very apparent in the last few minutes that wasn't meant to be.

Stepping towards her, he unsheathed his blade, a Dwarven sword enchanted to drain the life from those it struck. With any luck, once he struck her, she would have a swift death. With one quick thrust, he plunged the blade into her chest, briefly wishing that he had met her all those years ago, before he stole the key, before he killed Gallus. Maybe then, things would have been different.

Withdrawing his blade, he sheathed it before turning to walk away towards the exit, his footsteps echoing hollowly throughout the tomb. Further down this path. No turning back now.


End file.
